


Dust Angelic

by softheartelectricsoul



Series: The Kids From Yesterday [4]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, So much angst, like seriously angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softheartelectricsoul/pseuds/softheartelectricsoul
Summary: There is no god in this place but the sand and sun.—He is having a hard time coping with His death.





	Dust Angelic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhatMakesYouThinkEverything (survivethefall)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/survivethefall/gifts), [that one random guest guy who said I'm awesome](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=that+one+random+guest+guy+who+said+I%27m+awesome).



> I LIED ABOUT STUDYING FOR MIDTERMS
> 
> HERE'S THE TWENTY ONE PILOTS CHAPTER. YOU ARE NOT PREPARED FOR THE ANGST AHEAD. ALSO I DON'T LISTEN TO TOP SO I probably SCREWED UP THE CHARACTERISATION SORRY.
> 
> WHY AM I SHOUTING.

He is breathing,  
but he is not living.  
He drags himself around in this merciless desert.  
(He used to stay with the Sinners, but he couldn't stand it.  
It's hard to watch people happy.)  
So he lives from drink to drink, from pill to pill.  
It is empty, his world.  
Empty promises, empty lives.  
Empty, featureless, vacuous.

 

There is no God in this forsaken place.  
There is but the sand, the sun, and the Phoenix Witch.  
There is no meaning, he thinks.  
All meaning from the horizon is gone, leeched out.  
There is nothing but the wooshing of wind and the heat of the sun.

The colour cannot mask it forever.  
It is but a surface covering—  
paint covering the cracks in his mask.

He moves to a new place for the thousandth time when he sees a shack on the horizon.

Civilisation isn't that comforting.

He does not remember walking there.

He walks inside the drug-store, banging the door shut.

It is dilapidated, but everything is around here.  
It triggers a sense of deja-vu in his mind.

The girl behind a shelf yells out.

He remembers. It's Black Widow, Lane's friend and born tumbleweed.

‘Message! Haven't seen you in, what, a decade? I thought you were dead. I can barely recognise you.’

‘Long story. Can't stay. Gotta go soon.’

Widow nods.

‘Need anything? You don't look like you popped around just to say hi.’

‘Strongest drug you've got.’

Widow rummages through the shelf.

‘The strongest thing I've got is benzedrine. Times are hard for the tumbleweeds.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I'll take it.’

‘Fifty carbons.’

He dishes out the last of his money.

‘What do you need with that anyways?’

He slips out the door before she presses the matter.

‘Fine. Say hi to Lane for me.’

He doesn't have the heart to tell her that he's dead.


End file.
